Page 4 of Matched with Her Runaway Groom

I might as well try to help or Kenzie won’t let me forget about it. I peek out just barely to see one of the opponents taking aim near Kenzie’s cone. With one last blow of breath, I do my best to aim and fire, hitting the cone instead of the player. But seeing as how the paintball lands only a couple feet wide of him, I’d say it’s a pretty good shot.

My confidence rises and I finally stand up, taking quick peeks around the corner of the obstacle. None of my teammates are near me and I figure I might as well make my way toward the flag on the other end of the field. I heard someone say that once the opposing team retrieves it, the game is done.

At this point, it’s my only hope.

I rush to get to the other cone, breathing a sigh of relief as I arrive without being blasted with a paintball. I try to slow my breathing enough to listen. They’re probably on the far side of the field. I make a break for the large rectangular obstacle where I saw someone hiding earlier.

“I’m out,” I hear Kenzie say.

What? How in the world did she get out before I did? And when I look back three of my teammates are standing next to her on the sidelines. It’s a good thing we’re not playing for a prize because we are going home with nothing.

I turn to see what the sound is coming from behind me and I’m suddenly hurtling forward, tripping over my own foot. My nose cracks against the helmet as the protective equipment smacks into the ground.

And then three balls of paint smack me in the lower back.

Nothing like hitting a girl when she’s down.

Then again, maybe this is a good thing. Then I don’t have to worry about continuing this ridiculous charade. Because the rest of the teams seem to have been born and bred for this kind of thing, whereas I would rather be curled up reading a book than lying on this scratchy ground.

“Okay,” someone says from behind me, “let’s set it up again.”

Oh no. No, no, no. This can’t be happening to me right now. Kenzie comes over and I grab her upper arm.

“We lost, right?” I try not to laugh at the sound of that remark. People don’t usually want to lose. Just another reason I’m not normal.

“Right, but it’s best of three,” Kenzie says.

“We didn’t put a specific number of games on the list. I think one is plenty.”

“Rachelle, you’ll be fine. Suck it up, buttercup.” Kenzie checks the paintballs in her gun and walks back to the starting line.

I follow her and try to find something to be grateful for about this day. It’s a good thing Kenzie didn’t add too many items to my BBL. Yep, definitely grateful the number of extreme sports is low.

My teammates rush to the first obstacle and just as I’m getting ready to convince my legs that they need to move for cover, a blue paint bullet splatters near my collarbone. Well, I guess that gets me out of one more game.

I walk over to the sideline and wait, watching as the two teams dart back-and-forth amongst the obstacles. Someone on the other team gets out, a petite woman who saunters over to stand a few feet away. She begins talking through her mask and I’m looking for escape routes. Dang, the place is sealed except for the one exit we came through earlier.

“Isn’t this so fun? It’s like the best way to bond with your co-workers ever.”

“Yeah.” It’s all I can say.

“Are you here on an office bonding mission as well?” she asks, using her hands. I have to dodge out of the way a couple times because she keeps waving the gun. I may not know a whole lot about gun safety, but I have noticed that the trigger on a paintball gun is rather sensitive.

And the paintballs are painful. I rub the spot near my collarbone and shake my head.

“No, I’m just here with my friend.”

“Oh, well, my team leader is likethehottest guy ever. And he is so fast and athletic. Such a turn on!”

I get flashes of high school all over again. “I take it there’s no rule against dating coworkers at your company?” I say, casually. She shakes her head which reveals the long perfectly curled hair trailing down her back. Wisps of mine are tickling my neck, making it difficult to stop itching.

“No, it kind of helps that my dad is, like, the main boss over the Boston branch of our company and he’s pretty lenient with that. I mean, he does want his daughter to get married at some point, right?” She pauses a moment and points. “Oh, look! There he is.”

The guy is lean but as he holds his gun at his side, his arms are fairly well defined. I mean, if I was interested in guys and their muscles. As it stands now, I am only mildly warming up to the idea of ever talking to a guy again.

I’m intrigued by something I see in the man she pointed out. The movements seem oddly familiar and a part of me is hoping that the conclusions I’m making are incorrect. He shoots the last member of my team and a cheer rings out with the opposing squad. The woman who’s been chatting next to me runs over to give him a monkey-like hug, the kind where all the limbs are grasping tightly around him.

Kenzie walks over, pulling her mask up, and gives me a small smile. “Too bad, Rachelle. Now you get your wish,” she says. “That one guy is pretty phenomenal.” I fall into line as the rest of my team walks toward the winners, congratulating each other.

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